


Chocolate Kisses

by Sue Corkill (mscorkill)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 12:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/Sue%20Corkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack needs a haircut and Valentine’s Day is looming on the horizon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> From the SJFanFic10 prompts; pure, unadulterated fluff. Enjoy!
> 
> Originally posted February 2007

CHOCOLATE KISSES

“You need a haircut.”

“What?” Jack looked up from reading the latest report from General Landry on the Ori into the bland face of his secretary. He suspected Christine was only a few years younger than he was, but she had a way of looking at him that reminded him way too much of Miss McGonigal, his third grade teacher. Though Miss McGonigal usually had a ruler in her hand to rap across his knuckles when he wasn’t paying attention; fortunately Christine hadn’t found it necessary to resort to physical violence—so far.

“You need a haircut, sir.” Her gray eyes twinkled and Jack frowned. She was laughing at him again and there was not a damn thing he could do about; he couldn’t get along without her and she knew it. She was probably right though, and he automatically ran his hand along his collar, the tell-tale strands of hair brushing against his fingers confirming that Christine was indeed right again, he needed a haircut.

He had meant to get one over New Year’s when he was back in the Springs, but as usual whenever he was with Sam, time flew by and the last think on his mind had been a haircut. His most important priority regarding his hair had been having her fingers run through it—repeatedly.

“I’ll get one tomorrow,” he told his secretary, who still hovered in front of his desk.

“May I remind you that you have a 2pm meeting with General Collingswood?”

Crap. He didn’t say it out loud, but Christine nodded just like she’d heard him and Jack added ‘mind-reading’ to the list of her abilities. Collingswood was the four-star Jack reported to and there was nothing the beefy ex-fighter pilot liked better than to remind Jack that he was the new kid on the block and little better than the lowliest Airman, at least as far as the general was concerned. Jack wouldn’t put it past Collingswood to pull a set of electric clippers out of his pocket and give him a regulation haircut, right on the spot.

Jack huffed and continued to frown at his secretary. “I haven’t had time to find a barber here, Christine.”

“I’ve already taken the liberty of making you an appointment at Segovia.”

“Segovia?” Jack called after her retreating figure. ‘Segovia’ didn’t exactly sound like a barbershop, it sounded like some fancy salon and would probably bear little resemblance to Chuck’s Barbershop, where for the last ten years, Chuck had done a fine job of cutting his hair for all of fifteen dollars—including tip. If Segovia was like any place else in DC, you probably had to tip the doorman fifteen dollars just to walk through the door. 

Christine answered from the open closet door. “It’s where all the officers go, sir.” She emerged with his suit jacket and cover. “You’d better hurry. The appointment is for 11:30.” Jack glanced at the clock on his desk—11:10—and she added, “Thomas has the car waiting out front.”

Jack didn’t whine or moan; he merely stood and let her help him into his jacket. He’d discovered early on those kinds of tactics didn’t work with Christine, he just accepted that he’d once more been outflanked and out-maneuvered by his frighteningly efficient secretary. That she was merely looking out for her boss was beside the point. 

“One of these days, Christine,” he muttered, when she held the door open for him.

The door was already closing, but he swore he could hear her laughing. “Enjoy your haircut, sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was worse than Jack had expected, Segovia was an ultra-posh spa and salon located less than ten minutes from the Pentagon. Thomas had maneuvered the Town Car through the city traffic as easily as Jack had once flown the X-303 through space; pulling smoothly to a stop right in front of the luxurious exterior. Jack waited for Thomas to get out and open his door, knowing the young man would take it as a personal slight if Jack opened his own door—something he had discovered very soon after Thomas had been assigned as his driver. 

“I’ll be here when you’re finished, sir.” Jack nodded; he didn’t even question anymore how Thomas always managed to appear right when needed, deciding it was better not to question fate and just accept that his staff seemed to know what he needed before he did, much like his former team. 

As expected there was a doorman and Jack was almost sure there was a trace of pity in the older man’s eyes when he held the door open for him. His first impression was that this haircut was going to cost him a small fortune; the foyer had a fountain splashing quietly in one corner and there were enough cut flower bouquets to keep a florist in business for years. 

“May I help you, General?” A young girl with bright red hair stood at a podium. 

Jack took off his cover and approached her. “O’Neill,” he said. “Here for a haircut.”

Jack tried not to stare at her elaborately manicured nails when she ran a finger down the schedule book in front of her. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone with nails that long or painted that particular shade of purple and pink. She looked up at him and smiled and damned if she didn’t have what looked like a diamond glinting off one of her front teeth.

“Please follow me,” she said. Jack tried not to notice how her butt wiggled when she walked, her short pink skirt barely covering her…assets. Sam would so kill him if she caught him ogling a girl young enough to be his daughter. Focusing on the back of her spiky red head, he followed her down a long hall to an elegant waiting room, at least that’s what he figured it was, the small alcove held several overstuffed chairs, two end tables and the obligatory stack of magazines. 

“Armando will be with you shortly. Please make yourself comfortable.” 

Doing as he was told, Jack sat down in one of the soft leather chairs and looked around for some place to set his cover. 

“Here,” she said, with a bright smile, “let me take that. May I get you something to drink? Coffee? Mineral water?”

“Ah…no, I’m fine,” he replied, looking around the elegant room and wondering what the hell Christine had gotten him into. As far as he could tell, the only indication that this was indeed some kind of hair establishment was the faint hint of hairspray he caught in the air.

She nodded. “My name is Persephone. Be sure and let me know if you need anything!”

Jack watched her wiggle for a moment as she walked away, quite sure he’d never met anyone named Persephone before. Shaking his head, he sat back in the chair and drummed his fingers on the warm leather of the arm. He couldn’t remember what was on his calendar between now and his 1400 meeting with Collingswood, he could only hope that the ever-efficient Christine had cleared enough time in his schedule for this haircut.

He never had to wait when he went to Chuck’s, he thought grumpily after ten minutes went by with no sign of any ‘Armando’. People had passed by his location and he honestly couldn’t tell if they were clients or the staff, given that most of them looked like refugees from a fashion magazine. Speaking of magazines, Jack checked out the assortment on the coffee table wondering what the chances were he’d find a copy of Field & Stream. Not too surprisingly, there were only glossy fashion magazines and he idly picked up the only one with a name he recognized—Cosmopolitan.

It was the current February issue, he noted, the scantily clad brunette on the cover displaying her various curves, her outfit leaving little to the imagination. Sara had picked them up every now and then while they were married and it didn’t look like too much had changed since he’d last seen one of them. He leafed idly through the pages, nothing particularly catching his eye until he flipped to a page emblazoned with bright red and pink hearts and a title that queried how was he going to impress his lover on Valentine’s Day this year?

Jack paused and did the math, realizing he was due to be in the Springs for his monthly visit over the fourteenth. He suddenly decided maybe he’d better read the article, given he actually had a lover this year. Times had changed and while flowers and chocolates might have been good enough when he was married, that was the nineties and this was a new century—he didn’t want to be stuck back in the romantic stone age. Not that he thought Sam would mind…but, it always paid to be prepared.

Skimming the article, he raised an eyebrow at some of the lewder ideas and merely rolled his eyes at others. None of them were really anything he could see him and Sam doing, though the one with the handcuffs, Jell-O and whipped cream seemed to have definite possibilities. There was also one involving chocolate and underwear that seemed relatively innocuous.

“Oh, General!”

Jack looked up, a slender man of indeterminate age—and even more indeterminate sexuality—sporting a spiky haircut similar to Persephone’s, only with black roots and blonde tips, was bearing down on his location. Quickly ripping the Valentine’s idea article out of the magazine, he stuffed the pages in his inside suit pocket and tossed the magazine aside.

“I’m Armando,” the man announced, holding out his hand.

Jack stood, towering over the man and shook his hand, wincing slightly at the soft grip.

“Oh my, you are a strong one aren’t you?” Armando exclaimed, his dark eyes giving Jack a quick up and down that had Jack wondering uneasily how he measured up. He also wasn’t sure how to respond to Armando’s rather provocative comment, but apparently it didn’t matter, as Armando kept right on talking.

“Come along now. I’m dreadfully sorry to have kept you waiting, but Mrs. Sheridan wasn’t happy with her bangs. Now mind you, what a seventy year old woman is doing with bangs is beyond me, but then you know, the customer is always right. Maybe she’s going for a retro look, the whole Mamie Eisenhower thing. Of course, I told her we should do something a bit more modern, but would she listen to me? Oh no, of course not…” 

Armando’s voice trailed off as he walked away and Jack sighed, following after the chatty stylist with only one thought on his mind—Christine was so going to pay for this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Weeks Later—Valentine’s Day

Sam turned down her street, anxious to get home. It seemed like everyone and everything had conspired to keep her on base; from Landry requesting a last minute report right down to the elevator that stopped at every floor on its way to the surface. She missed Jack, the weeks between their visits seemed to drag; daily phone calls and emails just weren’t the same as actually being with him in the flesh. 

And besides, it was Valentine’s Day, even though she wasn’t going to make a big deal about it. Her only acknowledgement to the occasion had been to indulge in a slinky red nightgown, even though flannel was more appropriate for February in Colorado. She also had a card, just in case Jack did the unexpected and remembered the day. 

Her lips curved in a slight smile, there was still so much she didn’t know about him, even after spending eight years working side-by-side with him. But it was totally different now and she sometimes felt like she was getting to know him all over again. And Valentine’s Day was one of those great relationship mysteries. She really didn’t care either way about the day; she knew he loved her and was secure in that love, but if he wanted to acknowledge it, she was going to be prepared.

A black SUV was parked out in front of her house, Jack’s usual choice of rental vehicle, so she was reassured he’d arrived safely. Grinning stupidly at the giddy feeling that filled her at the prospect of seeing him, she turned down the alley and pulled in to the drive behind her house. She caught the faint hint of wood smoke in the air and the thought of a cozy evening at home with Jack in front of a roaring fire joined the giddy feeling in her stomach and she hurried from the car into the house.

Sam slipped off her shoes, leaving them on the mat by the door and hung her coat and scarf next to Jack’s. Frowning slightly, she walked down the short hall. The kitchen was dark and there was a fire flickering in the fireplace behind the glass doors, but no sign of Jack in the living room. Puzzled now, she walked slowly toward the front door when something bounced off her stocking foot and skidded across the floor in front of her. What on earth…Sam squinted in the dim light of the hallway; kneeling down she picked up…a Hershey’s Kiss?

A brief glint of silver caught her eye…there were more kisses, scattered on the floor. Absently unwrapping the foil off the kiss in her hand, she popped it in her mouth. They weren’t exactly scattered, she realized, it was more like a trail of kisses…. Rising to her feet, she followed the trail of Hershey’s Kisses down the hallway to the bedroom. It was very odd and she couldn’t quite believe what the evidence would suggest, that Jack was attempting something romantic.

Cautiously opening the bedroom door, she didn’t know if she was disappointed or relieved that the room was empty. She saw the bouquet of long stemmed red roses on the night stand right away and then she saw the piece of paper, along with several more kisses, lying prominently on her pillow. Popping another Hershey’s Kiss into her mouth, she crossed over to the bed and picked it up, immediately recognizing Jack’s bold scrawl. _I kiss the ground you walk on._

Oh my…she read the note once and then read it again, the message at total odds with what she would have expected from Jack.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Sam swung around at the sound of his voice and found him standing in the bathroom doorway. She felt oddly disoriented and wondered wildly if she’d found a quantum mirror in her home, because there as no way she could still be in her own universe. Jack O’Neill, bad ass Air Force general, slayer of System Lords and the love of her life, stood in her bedroom wearing little more than a tentative smile and a pair of red satin boxers emblazoned with pink lipstick kisses.

She was at once both horrified and incredibly touched by his attempt at some Valentine’s Day romance, so she did the only thing she could do at that moment, she burst into laughter…which she couldn’t stop. She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe, drawing in large gasping breaths between paroxysms of laughter. 

“Oh Jack,” she wheezed, “you are too precious!” His initial smile had faded into a slightly confused and hurt look in light of her laughter, but the more she continued the laugh, the more that hurt puppy dog look faded into one that was clearly annoyed and not amused at all. 

“Precious?” he asked, the warning in his deep voice clear.

Sam nodded, wiping at the tears streaming down her face and trying in vain to stifle her laughter. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I just never…” her voice trailed off and she waved her hand his general direction. Pulling herself together—and fighting to keep her expression and voice serious—she said, “You look very sexy.” And promptly burst into more laughter.

“I’ll show you sexy,” he rumbled, lunging at her.

“Jack!” She shrieked with laughter when he swept her up in his arms, whirling her around the room before dropping her down onto the bed. He knelt over her, his hands already busy with the button and zipper on her jeans, and she grinned up at him.

“So you think Valentine’s Day is funny?” he drawled. 

“I think you’re adorable,” she replied saucily, lifting her hips when he tugged her jeans and panties off, dragging her socks along with them.

“Adorable?” he asked, his lips twitching in a half smile. “I was hoping for something a bit more…manly.”

Sam scooted into a sitting position and grinned at him. “Oh, Jack,” she purred, reaching out and snapping the waistband of his cheesy boxers, “you are so manly.” 

He growled something that she was probably better off not understanding and she laughed, quickly pulling her sweater off, flinging both it and her bra onto the floor. Laying back on the pillows and thrusting her breasts up towards him, she trailed a hand down his chest in a lingering caress and proclaimed dramatically, “Oh, take me now, you manly man!”

His loud bark of laughter reassured her and then neither of them were laughing when his mouth descended to hers, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. “I’ve missed you,” she murmured, when is lips left hers and trailed a path of hot kisses along her jaw.

“Me too,” he muttered, nipping her ear lobe. She squirmed beneath him, the satin of his boxers rubbing erotically against her sensitive skin. All the different textures started to swamp her senses; the smooth satin covering his hard flesh, the familiar warmth and planes of his chest pressed against her breasts and the hot suction of his lips and mouth as he worked his way down her throat to her breasts.

Sam sighed with contentment when his mouth fastened on her nipple, enjoying the pleasant sensation and idly stroking his hair while he caressed her. “You got a haircut,” she murmured, raking her nails across the short hairs at his nape.

“Yeah.” She shivered when his spoke, his warm breath blowing across her wet nipple and sending tingles straight to her belly. “Armando.”

Her hand paused on his head; surely she couldn’t have heard him correctly. “Armando? I thought you got your haircut at Chuck’s?” 

Jack nipped at her breast gently and looked up at her, his dark eyes brimming with passion and amusement. “Can we discuss my haircut later?” he asked, moving his hips lazily against her.

Sam moaned softly, her hands tightening in his hair as her body automatically responded, her hips rising up to meet him. “Yes, sir,” she gasped, still managing to tease. “Whatever you say, sir.”

His eyes darkened even more and his mouth descended to hers, his tongue sweeping deep into her mouth. She clutched at his shoulders, responding at once to his demanding kiss. More of his weight settled firmly on her and she arched her hips up to meet him, the smooth satin now frustrating her efforts to get closer to him.

“Jack,” she complained, breaking the kiss, her hands leaving his shoulders to tug at the offending boxers. 

He shifted over her and with a few precise movements, bare flesh met bare flesh. “Better?” he rumbled.

“Yes,” she whimpered, wrapping her legs around his hips, urging him on. 

Oh god, she thought hazily when he finally pressed into her, she was never quite prepared for the overwhelming sense of completeness that filled her every time they made love. Rationally she knew she didn’t need a man to make her life complete, but having Jack in her life and in her bed filled in all the little cracks and crevices she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge even existed. He might not be necessary to complete her life, but he certainly made it more interesting.

It wasn’t long before their combined movements had their usual effect and she felt the first flutters of release rising lazily through her. Jack shifted subtlety, his rhythmic movements increasing the pressure until an overwhelming wave of pleasure rippled through her, leaving her trembling in his arms. She somehow found the energy to keep her arms wrapped around him, holding him when he groaned quietly, burying his face in her neck, his hips continuing to move erratically against her when he found his release.

Sam held him close, her fingers running lightly through his hair, waiting for her heart to stop racing and her breathing to slow down. 

He relaxed against her and nestled closer, nuzzling her neck. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

She smiled and kissed the top of his head. “You did good, Jack,” she told him and then added, “Even if it was a little…unexpected.”

Jack groaned loudly and rolled off her, sprawling out next to her. “I knew I shouldn’t have bought those damn boxers!”

“No, no,” she hurried to reassure him. “They’re…cute.”

“It’s all Christine’s fault anyway,” he muttered.

Sam raised her eyebrows; she’d met Jack’s secretary and had liked her, she was sensible, down-to-earth and had been around the Pentagon long enough to know all the ins and outs, which didn’t quite explain her supposed involvement in Jack’s rather unusual Valentine’s Day surprise. Rolling onto her side, Sam propped herself on his chest and asked, “How is this your secretary’s fault?”

“Maybe it’s not entirely her fault,” he mumbled. “I think Armando has to take some of the blame too.”

“Since when did you start asking for relationship advice from your secretary and the guy who cuts your hair?”

“And maybe you too,” he added, ignoring her question, the faintest hint of sulkiness creeping into his tone.

“How is this my fault?” she asked mildly. 

He gave her his long-suffering look, the one he usually reserved for one of Daniel’s long-winded explanations—or one of her exceptionally technical scientific reports. “If you hadn’t keep me so…occupied when I was here over New Year’s, I wouldn’t have needed to get my haircut in DC and been forced to rely on Christine, who sent me to Armando.”

“I see,” she murmured. “So…I have Christine and Armando to thank for these?” She reached over him and picked up the red boxers, waving them over his head.

“No,” he said, snatching them out of her hand, tossing them out of sight. “You have Cosmopolitan magazine to thank for those!”

She couldn’t stop her quiet chuckle and he looked so dismayed that she almost felt sorry for him. Leaning down, she kissed him thoroughly. “It was very romantic,” she confessed and was rewarded with a slight twitch of his lips that turned into a genuine smile. “But Jack, Cosmo?” she added, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You have got to tell me, just where did you get this haircut?”

THE END


End file.
